In Dwelling

I'm Roz, and this is my relaxed space. It's about fun, good conversation and — well yes — good conversation. Pull up a well-padded armchair and help yourself to something to drink. You'll find cheese and crackers on the sideboard. What's new with you?

If you're looking for things in a more serious or spiritual vein, you can check out Exultet where I write that sort of thing.

It was truly a good holiday. Christmas Eve Mass was wonderful, there were great times and conversations with kids and friends, everyone gave thoughtful and welcome gifts, and which were joyfully received. However, it offered a new opportunity to me to Learn Something the Hard Way.

I like to cook, but I haven't done much in the way of baking since my bread-baking days gave way to "got a lot of toddlers" days. But this year brought me a brand new kitchen and renewed ambition to bake Christmas cookies and other goodies. The final installment was a batch of Baklava, a wonderfully rich middle-eastern pastry that my aunt taught me to make. As my daughter and I were tenderly placing and buttering fragile layers of phyllo dough, I explained to her that I preferred cooking to baking because I'm a "throw together whatever tastes good" cook, a technique that doesn't work in baking because everything has to be precise. I should have listened to myself more closely.

After dough layers are assembled over and under a delicious filling of ground walnuts and flavorings, you make a sugar syrup with lemon to pour over everything after baking. I had listened attentively to dear Aunt Jenny who had emphasized that it had to become a thick syrup, not at all watery. "Yes, Aunt Jenny," I said to myself as I boiled and boiled; I hadn't, however, paid enough attention to that important guideline: Be Precise. Somehow along the way, I had missed the instruction that the lemon juice should be added to the syrup after boiling, not before. Did it matter? Yes.

Those of you who listened in Chemistry class may be able to explain the whys and wherefores, but, as I later discovered, the abortive syrup finally 'thickened'' well after it had reached the "let's make it rock hard" stage of candy-making. Though I was mildly surprised to observe that I was pouring deep-caramel-colored syrup over those perfectly-browned diamond shapes of Baklava, it was indeed startling to have the whole pan of stuff harden within minutes to approximately the consistency of granite.

I chiseled it apart and served with trepidation. My family was courteous. As they dug unchewable nuggets from their teeth, they praised the flavor and the flakiness of the (lower levels of) pastry, but they were just being kind.

So today, I am performing surgery. I am incising and discarding the awful bits, gathering the goodies that lie below, and gathering the remnants. Perhaps they'll be good in a bowl with milk? They're certainly tasty when grabbed surreptitiously on the run.

I generally refrain from writing about political matters. This isn't due to a lack of observations or opinion, but because he tendency of political conversation these days is to ignore nuance and leap directly for the jugular. I don't enjoy firefights and do my best to avoid them (though I sometimes yield to the temptation to make a comment that I think wittily insightful but others may think snarky). I believe that respect and good will are too valuable to sacrifice on the altar of the scoring of rhetorical points. However, I'm breaking with past practice because I am concerned about the President of the United States.

I am not a particular fan of Mr. Obama. Before he was elected, I was concerned that his initiatives would cause harm, his lack of foreign policy experience would jeopardize us internationally, his lack of political experience and a solid political network would make him insular and an ineffective collaborator with Congress, and his lack of real-world business experience would hinder his judgment. Events since his election have reinforced my opinion.

But, unlike the left's stereotypical expectation of his opponents, I don't want President Obama to be an utter failure. True, I'd prefer he not achieve much of what he strives for, but it's in my interest and the interest of all Americans that he be a good steward of American interests abroad and facilitate good government at home. It would be a serious problem if the President were to become completely ineffective. So the lack of dignity, resilience, emotional intelligence, and even political acumen that the President has demonstrated over the last several months are reasons for concern.

President Obama was supposed to be announcing an important compromise, as he put it, on tax policy. Normally a president, having agreed with the opposition on something big, would go through certain expected motions. He would laud the specific virtues of the plan, show graciousness toward the negotiators on the other side—graciousness implies that you won—and refer respectfully to potential critics as people who'll surely come around once they are fully exposed to the deep merits of the plan.

Instead Mr. Obama said, essentially, that he hates the deal he just agreed to, hates the people he made the deal with, and hates even more the people who'll criticize it. His statement was startling in the breadth of its animosity.

There's no strategic advantage to being petulant, yet the President displayed petulance. There is no upside to admitting you were forced into an agreement you dislike, yet Mr. Obama not only admitted it, he trumpeted it. Although he has appeared to shoot from the hip more since it became clear the November setbacks were inevitable, it's not the first time his emotions have led to imprudent actions. At various times, he has insulted his opposition, offended allies, and dissed his friends. Not only are these not the actions of an adept politician, they are startlingly unprofessional at any level.

From the administration's beginning, the White House and Congressional leadership chose to set its own path rather than collaborate with others with divergent views. That was a luxury offered by a filibuster-proof majority. It may not have been wise (chickens do come home to roost), but it was possible. It appears, however, that it may not have been so much a thoughtful decision as a temperamental one -- and that temperament the one at the top. It's hard to believe that the President's advisers suggested, for instance, that he go out there in front of the press corps and explain that the decision he has just brokered is bad for the country. It must be that President Obama himself made that call. So we are left to wonder, what can be the cause of the President so energetically getting in his own way?

This goes far beyond wondering how big the landslide against him might be in 2012. This is the leader of the United States of America acting imprudently and against even his own best interests, not to mention the interests of the country which he is sworn to uphold and defend. I am honestly concerned. It's important for all of us that President Obama bring to his office all the strengths and talents he has at his disposal. It would be wise for him to gather around himself wise counsel who could not only help him understand and appreciate diverse points of view, but who might assist him in leaning into his strengths, managing his weaknesses, and increasing his resilience. And if he does so, I hope he can bring himself to listen to them.

Even Olympic champions need a coach, Mr. Obama. We don't begrudge you anything you can use in the pursuit of excellence. Just do it.

Clean off the floor, picking up anything that weighs less than 50 lbs and moving it to the floor of the nearest closet. Artfully cover the pile in the closet with fabric. Vacuum only the visible areas.

Grab a few empty boxes from the laundry room where you keep them for just such an occasion, and sweep all flat surface clutter into them. No need to sort, simply pile it all in the boxes. Seal these boxes with tape, label them “Old Underwear To Donate”, and place them in the attic where you can easily find them when you realize your checkbook is in one of them. I’ve taken to writing the date on these boxes, since I sometimes never get back to them again til tax time.

Don’t empty the dishwasher, that’s a waste of time. Instead, remove only the biggest items and then cram whatever dishes are in the sink in with the clean dishes, and run it again. The overcrowding won’t matter because half those dishes are clean.

Hide the ginormous pile of clean laundry that you’ve neglected to deal with for several weeks in your daughter’s closet, only keeping out and putting away your kid’s sports uniforms and your spouse’s favorite clothes that they’ll look for in the next day or two. Bribe daughter with Starbucks if she’ll keep that door closed for the day. Threaten her with death if she doesn’t.

Pour a lemon smelling cleaner in all sink drains and toilets- but don’t flush. Out of lemon cleaner? Try Sprite, works just as well.

Dampen a towel for each person who’s in cahoots with you, and add a drop of lemon oil to each one. Run around the main living areas, wiping flat surfaces- but only those that show. Use this opportunity to also tuck random items into the couch cushions- like the Sharpie markers that perpetually live on the side table, the turkey baster one of the kids was using to make fart noises, and the stapler that you’ve been looking for forever.

Throw all wayward shoes, cleats and slippers out on the back porch, in the corner where you can’t see them from inside.

And lastbutnotleast, all of your activity and running and flailing will have created a wind that has blown all the dog hair under the dining room table and into the corners of the kitchen. Instead of sweeping, take an old wet dishtowel and wipe up the hairs that have conveniently collected there. Throw this towel away, because by the time you get around to washing it, you’ll have forgotten how it became covered in hair and dirt, and you won’t want to touch it, so you’ll throw it away.

Of course, if you feel this is all too much work, you can just smear your guests' glasses with Vaseline when they come in so they can't really see anything.

One of the things I enjoy about my kids is the somewhat unusual sense of humor we all share. I'm going to let you have a peek, but first some backstory. Last summer my son's family joined us at our cottage for several days. Son-meister brought his bike and did some riding -- at least until he encountered a bear cub with its mother. Although a mild-mannered minister, he realized that it was very likely that Mama Bear wouldn't realize this and would consider him a threat, to the detriment of his health (and his bike). Thankfully, after staring carefully at one another for a time, everyone decided to go peacefully home. General thanksgiving and discussion of bear-encounter strategies were one of the dinner table topics that evening.

So, when I came across this article, I sent it to my son via Facebook:

About

Name:: RozHometown::Ann Arbor, MI
Mother of several, grandmother of a couple, wife to one very good man. My epitaph will probably read, "Well, you just never know." Life is good, but it takes unexpected turns. Good thing I like surprises.